


shh

by Honeyduker



Category: Bleach
Genre: :), F/M, Filthy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25106479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeyduker/pseuds/Honeyduker
Summary: shhhhh.What Shinji and Hiyori get up to on a couch at 1am because they have no self control.
Relationships: Hirako Shinji/Sarugaki Hiyori
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	shh

**Author's Note:**

> alright i will own up to the filth enjoy

"Nnh," Hiyori mumbled and stirred, blearily blinking in the harsh light of the tiny LED clock on the TV stand, telling her it was well past midnight. She had fallen asleep in the living room, and her friends seem to have all dispersed back to their own rooms in the vizard warehouse. Well all except... Shinji, who seemed to still be asleep, and Hiyori hoped he hadn't realised at some point after she had dozed off midway through the movie night on the couch, she had started using him as her mattress. It was a mild summer night, and Hiyori had let her hair loose; she was wearing shorts instead of her usual trackpants, and her usual t-shirt. It must have started getting chilly, which is why she descended from her perch on the arm of the couch onto Shinji, she rationalised. He was asleep too, so no harm no foul. Hiyori made to get up, maybe cover the idiot in the throw blanket that was now pooled at their feet, and mosey back to her own room. Only, she was warm, comfortable, and she felt reluctant really, to leave a perfectly good mattress. Alas. Sleeping dogs only lie for so long.

As though Shinji sensed her intent to get up, his arms that were loosely strewn across the small of her back coiled and tightened, and his nose gently nuzzled into her hair, his breathing light and even.

Well shit. Hiyori swore under her breath, even as her body betrayed her and her heart started thundering. If it was hard for her to leave before, it definitely was infinitely more difficult now. Partially because Hage Shinji might wake up, and partially because ... After she had missed Shinji's presence for so long, how does she just have it in her to leave, not knowing when the next time they may be able to be like this again? The two of them playing the game of pretending to be innocuously oblivious, the dancing the dirty dance of two people stuck in a century old game of chicken, neither willing to give in first. Give in to _what_ exactly, Hiyori didn't even know anymore.

Hiyori could deny that she missed him all she wanted, but the way her body was reacting to Shinji's warmth, Shinji's familiar musky scent, the solid presence of him beneath her was making her mind blank out a little. Her better judgement, while trying to remain intact, was slipping away at an alarming rate. She buried her face into his chest, and in a momentary lapse of control, ground her hips against his. The violent jolt of pleasure that shot through her at the friction and pressure from that small movement caused her to gasp and still completely. Maybe her friends were right, she really needed to get laid and reconsider this whole virgin bride thing. Too bad she was pretty much disinterested in anything remotely sexual unless this baldy was concerned, and it was centuries too late to ask herself what went wrong that caused her to end up at this point in her life.

Hiyori exhaled slowly, trying to hold back a whimper at the agonising _need_ she felt at this moment, so close that she was literally touching the object of her desires, yet far away, because she might actually die if she begged Shinji to just relieve her right now, out of nowhere, at 1am in the morning on a threadbare couch. She shifted ever so slightly, craving that contact, perhaps just a little bit would be enough to let her fall back asleep, and getting busted by Shinji when he wakes up be damned, it was better than whatever he was doing to her body right now.

"Hiyori," Shinji's arms shifted slightly against her, and she could feel his fingers gently threaded into her hair at the nape of her neck. "If you keep doing that, you are going to start giving me ideas." His voice was low, almost inaudible amidst the quiet humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Hiyori could feel his lips against the tip of her ear, and the way he was barely breathing made her think maybe, she was having an effect on him too.

She wanted to find out, that way at least it would level the playing field a bit. "Mmm, what ideas, Hage Shinji?" she whispered back, her fanged tooth just barely grazing the column of his neck, and fuck, he smelled so good, it was illegal. "Maybe get your head out of the gutter, just because your name shares a word with sukebe doesn't mean- ahhh," and just like that, Hiyori lost her ability to form that coherent sentence when Shinji flipped her beneath him and rutted against her deliberately, pointedly and slowly, so that she could feel the hard tent forming in his pants.

"I mean it," he murmured against her neck.

"Hage Shinji, if I'm not a virgin bride anymore, you better take-"

"Take responsibility, mmm I know, but you're not getting it that easy," Shinji grinned roguishly. "If you want me, then say it," he lilted, voice velvety smooth. "Also, it ain't happening on a couch."

With that, he flipped her back on top of him and settled onto his back, returning them to their prior positions. His hand found his way up her bare thigh, and his fingers settled just beneath the fabric of her shorts. "Tell me to stop," he said, meeting her eyes. Hiyori was unsure if it was a question, or a challenge. Gooseflesh erupted across her legs where Shinji's calloused hand had touched, and desire pooled between Hiyori's legs, intense and dizzying.

"It ain't happening on a couch..." Hiyori parroted back, her mind waging a war between rationalism and lust "then what are we doing... If I want you ... Why should I say anything, I don't even know, do you want me, Hage Shinji?" Hiyori asked, voice suddenly turning serious. Was this lust, love, did friends do this, suddenly Hiyori had too many thoughts at once in her mind which felt oddly blank at the same time. Ah, so this was insanity. "Ero-Shinji, are you messing with me right now, because I will-"

"Shhhh," Shinji hushed her. "You'll wake the others. In case you can't tell if I want you," he rocked his hips against her again, eliciting a moan from Hiyori, "Shhh... I've wanted you for maybe a century give or take, but thanks for noticing."

Hiyori was stunned by his words once they registered, eyes widening to look at Shinji, who met her gaze with a raised brow.

"D'you have to look so shocked," Shinji whispered, the sarcasm evident despite his soft voice. "I thought you weren't interested for the longest time, and then you know, the war, etcetera." His fingers grazed Hiyori's folds, slick wet desire coating his fingertips, and Hiyori gasped and whimpered. "Shhh," Shinji hushed her again. "Those are my excuses, you can save yours for later."

His fingers dipped ever so slightly between her slick folds, and Hiyori buried her face into Shinji's chest to muffle her moan.

Shinji propped the both of them up into a sitting position, so that Hiyori was straddling him. He was fully hard now, and the tip of his cock was visibly straining against the waist of his pants, the tip glistening with pre-cum, some of it smeared over his lean lower stomach, faintly reflecting the light filtering in from the window. Hiyori's eyes widened, and Shinji nipped at her jaw, as his hands came up to roam the bare skin beneath her T-shirt. "Belt, Hiyori," Shinji murmured.

"Huh? Why do I have to, ah, undo your belt for you?"

Shinji's hands found their way to her breasts, and he flicked her nipple. "I'm busy."

"You ass," Hiyori breathed, bucking against him, and she felt Shinji smile against her collarbone.

"Yeah yeah, let's hear you complain louder for those in the back,why don't we?"

Hiyori held back a further retort and moved on instinct, her fingers were surprisingly deft with furious determination as she unbuckled Shinji's belt, her cheeks flaming. She gave it a tug, and it came loose, allowing her to unbutton and unzip Shinji's trousers.

Hiyori didn't know anymore if what her eyes were seeing was even reality. Sure, she had seen Shinji naked in some capacity before; they had occupied the same living space for many, many years after all. A century or perhaps more, give or take. She was sure Shinji had seen her too, but this; when she was given this implicit permission that she could just look without getting roasted about it, without having to steal glances at his bare chest, without having to suddenly clap her palms over her eyes, the whole situation suddenly had her at a loss.

"Like what you see?" Shinji teased, his large palm sliding down to gently slide against her inner thigh once more.

Hiyori refused to dignify his question with an answer. She hesitantly brought a finger to the tip of Shinji's cock, viscous pre-cum steadily flowing out from the head coating her fingertip. Shinji sucked in a silent breath, and watched as Hiyori brought her finger to her lips, pink tongue darting out to taste his arousal. Shinji's cock twitched, sending out more threads of pre-cum to pool on his abdomen. Hiyori wrapped a small hand around his length, the pre-cum lubricating Hiyori's ministrations as she hesitantly stroked him once, twice, before settling into a steady rhythm, both mesmerised and somewhat vindicated by the way Shinji's breathing hitched on every down stroke of her hand.

Shinji thrust into her hand and his eyes fluttered shut,a choked laugh-swear falling from his lips. "Okay c'mere," was the only warning he gave before maneuvering Hiyori so that he could strip off her shorts and underwear, and then his fingers were stroking her dripping folds, the slick coating his fingers and the fabric of his clothes. Shinji was attuned to every arch of Hiyori's back and every moan that threatened to tumble from her lips.

"Shhh," he would remind her every few seconds, and Hiyori would attempt to throw him a heated glare through those golden feline eyes, dark and half-hooded from pleasure. It was the only time she would directly meet his gaze, and Shinji couldn't get enough of it.

Hiyori was a shaking, quivering mess as he rubbed his thumb over her clit, his index finger dipping intermittently in-and-out of her tight heat.

"Shinji uh, i'm-" Hiyori began to say, and Shinji slowed down his attentions to her before stopping completely. Hiyori audibly whimpered.

Shinji leaned close to her so there noses were touching, and he levelled a stare at her. "Do you want it," he demanded softly.

Hiyori bucked against him in protest. "Want want?"

Shinji raised an eyebrow, "magic word."

Hiyori pointedly refused to look at him, instead drawing her gaze to his hard cock, coated in her slick arousal, pre-cum still steadily leaking from the tip. She drew a finger gently down the length of him, and Shinji sucked in a breath. "You know this isn't helping either of us." To make his point, Shinji pulled Hiyori flush against him, so that his cock was nestled between her slick folds, eliciting a low moan from the both of them.

"Okay fine, I want... I want this." Hiyori grit out. She should kick Shinji for how difficult he was making her life, but he was also making her feel all sorts of really, really, fucking good, and she was so close to maybe taking some of the edge off the way her body goes haywire around his.

"Mm what's _this_ ," Shinji asked, thrusting his hips and grinding against her.

"Ahhn, _fuck. you_..." Hiyori gasped at the movement, voice ragged.

"Fuck me?" Shinji whispered back. "So this is just a sex thing to you then, Sarugaki-san?" Shinji's voice was low with a note of mirth to it, but there was also an uncertain edge to his tone which made Hiyori question if this guy was fucking joking or not.

"Just a sex thing?" Hiyori looked up at him, incredulous. "Are you really saying I'd do this just because I wanted your body."

"Mm-" Shinji began, but Hiyori cut him off.

"Shut up, you shut up right now and finish this- whatever we are doing."

"Then say it," Shinji demanded, again.

" _Iwantyou_ ," Hiyori said so quickly and quietly, he would have missed it had she not whispered it into his ear.

At this moment, a dim light from down the hallway flicked on, the the pair heard footsteps fast approaching the common area.

Hiyori froze, wondering if the two of them should just shunpo out onto the roof, like that would not be suspicious at all.

Shinji, ever the fast thinker with even faster reflexes, pulled Hiyori down on top of him, not unlike the position they were in before they both woke up. "Blanket," he muttered to Hiyori.

Hiyori haphazardly drew the blanket over the both of them, and both lay very still on the couch as Mashiro ambled into the shared kitchen, hand scratching her belly, and tugged open the fridge door.

Shinji watched Mashiro through one half-closed eye, he could make our her silhouette from the light of the refrigerator and saw her pull out a yakult and a popsicle. He quickly closed his eyes again as he sensed Mashiro turn her attention onto them.

Of all the compromising positions over the years that Hiyori has found herself in with Shinji, this one easily takes the cake. No questions about it. Literally almost caught with their pants down, here she is, lying on top of him, half naked. She could hear the sound of his steady heartbeat in his chest, and her own heartbeat thundering away in her ears. She shifted a little, grinding on him, the wetness between them almost _too much_. She heard his breath stutter, and felt his arms snap and coil tightly around her. The message was clear; _don't move like that._

Shinji's firm hold only pressed Hiyori into him further, and low muffled moan tore from her throat.

It was testament to Shinji's restraint and self control that he didn't thrust back into her and come right then and there.

Shinji evened out his breathing, and chanced another peek at Mashiro, who was looking at her phone now, the blue glow of the screen illuminating her face, yakult straw dangling between her precariously teeth. Finally, she swings the refrigerator door shut, and leaves the kitchen area, returning to her room. The living area is dark once more, the only natural moonlight filtering in from the windows. The hum of the refrigerator returned in full force, with their shared breathing filling in the silence between them.

As soon as it was clear that they were alone again, Shinji wasted no time turning his attentions back onto Hiyori. He propped himself back up into a sitting position, Hiyori following suit to straddle him, and his hands roamed her body, kneading her breasts, sucking gently on the column of her neck. He was so close to his limit, his cock was so hard and twitching for release; he wanted any excuse to prolong this delight of having Hiyori mewl and squirm against him.

Hiyori had other ideas; impatient, she returned to grinding against Shinji's cock, the adrenaline from getting almost caught out by Mashiro combined with the raw arousal simmering hot and unrelenting within her all coalescing into a reckless need to relieve the sinful pleasure building inside her.

" _Hey,_ " Shinji growled, voice low and hot against her, and that was all Hiyori needed for the high to come crashing, and she came against him, rocking erratically as she rode out her orgasm, her moans dampened by Shinji roughly shoving his mouth against hers. She could feel his tongue exploring her mouth, his piercing on her tongue, then his teeth gently nipping her lips, his breathing ragged as they broke apart to catch their breath.

"Hiyori," Shinji breathed, guiding Hiyori's hand to his pulsing cock, "I'm gonna, ah," Shinji groaned as Hiyori pumped his cock, her hand coated in slick pre-cum, and he fucked into her hand when he couldn't hold back his self-control any longer, intense pleasure and lust lancing white-hot through him. He came, thick white ropes of creamy come pulsing steadily from his pulsing cock, coating his stomach and Hiyori's hand, thighs, and the spaces between them; there was so much of it, it was ridiculous. "Fucckk," Shinji swore under his breath, and watched hungrily as Hiyori licked the back of her hand, tasting his spend, then licked her lips.

"Not that I don't enjoy the show, but we should find a more efficient way to clean this up," Shinji suggested.

Five minutes later and paper towels and handwash all disposed of, the two re-dressed, though Shinji shed his soiled shirt, and settled back onto the couch, deciding to not further risk waking up any other members of this household.

The next morning Mashiro ambled into the kitchen, to find Shinji all showered, shaven, and brewing his filter coffee. Hiyori had just returned from her morning shower, hair damp, and Mashiro shot a questioning look at Hiyori. Hiyori knew in her gut this was bad news.

Lisa set down her tea and book at the dining table, and looked at Mashiro. "Hey 'Shiro, can you pull up that picture again?"

Mashiro whipped out her phone, and loaded up a photo, grainy and dark, with just enough light to make out a few details. This is clearly a shot from last night, and Hiyori appears to be peacefully snoozing atop Shinji, who looks like exactly like the lackadaisical, work-skiving captain that he is, one arm around Hiyori, the other hanging off the side of the couch.

Lisa ups the brightness of Mashiro's screen to max, pinches the screen to zoom out, then all the way in, onto a rectangular appendage hanging off the couch. "Shinji, is this like, your _belt_ "?

Shinji wasn't known as the king of poker face on Friday games nights through the years for no reason, and he doesnt skip a beat as he continues to slowly pour the hot water from the gooseneck kettle into their trusty v60 dripper in a languid circular motion. "I don't know, is it?" Shinji mildly responded, slender eyebrow cocked, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Mashiro's eyes bulged and she looked between Hiyori, to Shinji, to the phone screen. "Oh my god, it ISSSSS. HIYORI WHY IS SHINJI'S BELT UNDONE WHY ARE YOU LYING ON HIM BOW CHIKA WOW-"

Hiyori stopped drying her hair with her towel and froze. Hiyori wasn't known as the person who should never ever sit at a poker table ever, throughout all Seireitei back in the day for no reason; just like with Shinji, her reputation at the poker table preceded her ... for the wrong reasons.

Mashiro yanked the phone out of Lisa's grasp, and shoved it under Hiyori's nose. Hiyori's face was now a concerning shade of red, even after a hot shower. "I ... we didn't," she began to say.

"Hiyori," Mashiro's eyes were now narrowed the shape of two glee-filled crescents, her lips curled into a Cheshire cat grin. She zoomed in to a part of the couch. "Hey, what's this white splotch here?"

"Fuck off, 'Shiro," Hiyori shoved her damp towel into Mashiro's face. "We all know that's paint from all the fixing up we had to do when Ichigo lived with us and blew the house up."

"Oh?" Mashiro couldn't keep the laughter out of her voice. "You sure? You checked?"

" _Yeah_ ," Hiyori answered emphatically.

Lisa spat out her tea. "Oh my god, you had to check," she muttered.

Shinji was leaning against the kitchen counter sipping his coffee now, making a show of examining his nails.

"Hage Shinji, don't just sit there and do nothing," Hiyori growled at Shinji.

"That's not what you said last night," Shinji winked at Hiyori.

Hiyori threw her towel onto the dining table and dove at Shinji with a yowl, the two of them engaging in a short scuffle before Shinji trapped Hiyori's wrists and shunpo'd straight out of the room with her, leaving Mashiro and Lisa with nothing but half a jug of filter coffee and a damp towel in their wake.

"Oh mmmmm my god." Mashiro said.

"My god, indeed," Lisa agreed.

\- END -

**Author's Note:**

> they didn't even 👉👌 no refunds if you feel scammed


End file.
